


Out of His Depth

by thesilverarrow



Series: Doctor Who/Companion ficlets [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverarrow/pseuds/thesilverarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>At first, he'd assumed she was clinging to him as a fatherly figure – and she was, in many ways. He didn't really understand until one day when he watched her flirt with someone. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of His Depth

He was not accustomed to feeling out of his depth. No, scratch that – he was frequently out of his depth, if he was honest with himself. It was by choice, by sheer stubborn faith in his own abilities, and it usually didn't bother him. 

She bothered him.

She was all too prone to taking his hand. At first, he'd assumed she was clinging to him as a fatherly figure – and she was, in many ways. He didn't really understand until one day when he watched her flirt with someone. He saw the young man grin and trip over his words at warm eyes and easy charm and lovely, lovely legs. Because she wanted him to.

Later that day, he realized how often he tended to get tongue-tied trying to explain things to her. Somewhere along the way he had learned that it was easier just taking her hand, leading her. Now he knew what the taking was about. She had been drawing him closer and closer, so very carefully, so as not to startle him. That was usually his way. He wasn't sure if it made him feel much too old or absurdly young. At any rate, certainly foolish. But love is always like that.

She was always trying to tell him what she wanted, with her wide eyes and clutching hands and even with the curve of her mouth. He always listened, but for a long time he didn't hear. Once he did, he wasn't sure if it was wise. Another day, as they made a mad dash for the TARDIS, trouble at their heels, he reminded himself that he wasn't wise. He might never be. And she seemed to like him that way.

It turned out she liked him in lots of other ways, too, like under her, when she surprised him by climbing into his lap. She liked him kissing and biting his way over her neck and her collarbone, holding the shape of her breasts in his hands, murmuring her name. He liked getting hard but waiting, waiting, waiting until she couldn't take it anymore.

She also apparently liked him on top of her, undignified, unable to control himself any longer, fumbling up under her ridiculous miniskirts but somehow remembering just what to do with his fingers.


End file.
